Build Me Up, Buttercup
by Massiecur
Summary: Moving to a new town is never easy. Moving to a new country is ever harder, especially the giant transition from high class to dirt class. They don't know the rules, and they don't know what to do when a heavy rain of issues comes pouring down on them.
1. Chapter 1

_Why do you build me up, buttercup, baby,_  
_Just to let me down, and mess me around_

The house that sat at the very end of Willow Street had been empty for as long as anyone could remember. The red trim, shutters, and door were peeling and the wood was slightly warped from years of rain, snow, and no care. The white siding was now a dirty off-white colour, with dark black and brown splashes and streaks down it. The black shingles on the roof were either half gone, or all out of place, and the roof had a terrible leak. The cement walkway was cracked something awful, and weeds were growing up from the dirt underneath. The small front porch, which was only about a foot or two wider than the door, and about five feet out, low enough to not need any steps, was falling in, and was warped as much as anything else, if not more. The covering of the porch had been blown over into the overgrown lawn, and the posts looked ready to follow in the next wind.

Inside, the house had one floor, with only a bathroom, three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. The door opened up into the living room, which had dirty white walls, and only the sub floor; the carpet had been torn up and taken with the last people who had lived in the house, thirty years ago. It was a fair size, however, and had a big bay window, although the glass was cracked and layered in dirt and grime. The kitchen was small, with linoleum flooring in a black and white checkered pattern. It had a small area off to the side for a kitchen table, a few mouldy cupboards, and a very dirty counter top matching the floor. The sink had dead bugs and lots of green gunk inside it, and the pantry looked like a spider hotel. There was a small window by the sink, but no light fixture in the ceiling. Back through the living room, there was a hallway through a very thin doorway. The first room on the right was the small bathroom, with a disgustingly dirty toilet, small shower/bath, and a pedestal sink. There was no window in this room, nor a mirror, and as well there was only sub floor, which wouldn't be good for after-shower wetness. Right across from the bathroom was the master bedroom. Unlike the rest of the rooms in the house, this one had light blue walls, instead of white. It had dirty, fluffy pink carpeting, and a hideous pink and blue painted light fixture. The other two bedrooms, down the hall across from each other, were both very small, with dirty white walls, no closets, and warped hardwood flooring.

It was nearly ready to be condemned, so when a shiny white moving truck pulled up in front of the house, followed by a small green van, everyone was rather shocked. Who in their right minds would move into such a house?

The people in the car had the same thoughts. "It didn't look like this in the pictures," the pretty, brunette woman driving the van said, shock and unhappiness in her voice.

In the space of one day, nearly all the boxes had been unpacked. All the boxes that could be, however, since there was not many places to put things. The couch and recliner had been put in the living room, the same suede red as the giant floor rug that had been put down to protect the floor. As were a small wooden coffee table, and a small television atop a wooden stand not much bigger. The kitchen had a small, round, black table off to the side, and all the cabinets were coated with plastic, which was nailed in place, to keep the food and dishes disease-free. A glass cup filled with baking powder went in the fridge to soak out all the old smells in it, as well as one in the freezer.

The bathroom, too, had a large floor rug out to protect the floor – this one an off-white to match the walls, which were probably not off-white from the start. A dark purple shower curtain was up, and a large, square mirror was over the sink. A small basket was sitting beside the sink, full of hairbrushes and toothbrushes and toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, and other bathroom things.

The master bedroom had a closet full of clothes that looked too high class and expensive to ever be in such a house. A queen bed with floral bed sheets was in the corner of the room, beside it, a dresser, with even more clothes in it, and other items like makeup and perfumes atop it. Across from the bed was a long, oval standing mirror, with smoky purple scarves hanging off both sides. The walls were covered in family pictures – ones of two little blonde girls playing in the ocean, and a tiny black-haired baby in the hospital, and a dark-haired woman surrounded by the children, all smiling happily. School pictures and holiday photos and other family pictures were all crammed together in frames that did not match.

One of the smaller bedrooms had a small bed with cartoon animal print sheets, and many stuffed animals. A pink dresser stood in the corner, crammed with small girl clothes, and little dresses were laid out on top, since there was nowhere to hang them. There was a small mirror sitting on the floor, although it was meant to be hung, and it was surrounded by tubes of natural-colour lipstick and nearly empty perfume bottles and eyeshadow. Boxes crammed with dress-up clothes and more stuffed animals, and other toys, were sitting in the corner, beside an empty, pink, wooden toy box. On top of the toy box, in curly, girly, purple lettering, were the words "Julie's Toys".

The last room had two wooden plaques already nailed to the door. The top one was navy blue, and in bold, bottle green text it proclaimed "Monique". The one below was bottle green, with bold, navy blue words saying "Jocelyn". Inside, two single beds were squished up against the opposite smaller walls, each with sheets in a hot red. Two dressers stood in between the beds, barely fitting, crammed with more clothes than it was meant to hold. Like in Julie's room, some clothes were put on top of the dresser, but for the reason that they would not fit into the drawers. Piles of boxes were sitting beside the door, leaving very little spare space in the bedroom. The window had been thrown open to try and air out the stale place. All the house's windows were open.

Out in the back yard, four people were sitting on white, plastic lawn chairs, surveying the very small, fenced-off area, which was also in need of a bit of cutting. The grass came up past their ankles. If you were to look out the window at them, they would look just like any other lower class family out talking in the late evening sun, minus the upper class clothes they were wearing.

Mom was the tallest one, with flippy, curly chestnut hair, and calm brown eyes. Her face was wrinkled from age, but she still looked young and beautiful. She had thin lips covered in light pink lipstick, and blush on her cheeks. She was very thin, and wearing a white and yellow checkered sleeveless summer dress without shoes. A pair of round, black sunglasses were sitting on top of her head.

In front of her on the ground was a girl who looked a bit younger than five. She had long, straight black hair that fell to her ribcage, and huge, amber eyes. A smile was planted firmly on her thin face, as she sat in the grass in a light purple short-sleeved dress, and small, black sneakers. She was clutching a doll in her hands and looked perfectly content.

Across from her were two perfectly identical girls, with straight blonde hair and big eyes. The one on the left had blue eyes, where the one on the right had green. The one on the left had her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and was wearing a flowing, white tank top, and a short jean skirt. She had on a pair of white sandals, and a bit of mascara and light lipstick. The other girl had her hair down and no makeup on. She was wearing a red and white three quarter sleeved shirt, and a pair of straight-legged, slim jeans. On her feet were a pair of cherry red sneakers. This was the only possible way to tell the fair-skinned girls apart.

"You know," the one in jeans said seriously to her mother, "it'll probably cost more to fix this place up than it would have to buy a new house. I mean, we're not exactly poor."

"Jocelyn, we're not made of money either," Mom said.

"Yeah, but this house is going to cost loads!" The other added. "I mean, dad left all his money when he jetted."

"And we'll spend it on making this the house of our dreams," she said forcefully, putting an end to the conversation.

"My dream house has a bigger kitchen," Jocelyn murmured to her twin. She giggled. Too loud, apparently.

"Jocelyn! Monique! No more about the house!" Mom scolded. Little Julie giggled.


	2. Chapter 2

_All you wanted, _  
_I could be_

The sun poking through the dirty blinds wasn't the thing that woke the girls up on Monday morning. Although it did not aid their sleep, it was easier to deal with than Julie running through the room, screaming "it's the first day of school!" to get them up. How she could be so excited for school, the twins could not think of. Perhaps it was because Julie was beginning Kindergarten, and did not know how awful it truly was.

"We're up, Jules," Monique muttered. Julie didn't hear.

"We're _up_, Julie!" Jocelyn yelled. Julie heard that one, and rushed off so no one would yell at her again. They could hear her banging things around in the kitchen now, and mom getting angry with her. Poor Julie.

Monique and Jocelyn dragged themselves up out of their beds, hair a mess and faces pasty. Neither of them were morning people.

Jocelyn grabbed a pair of light blue jeans, almost identical to the ones she wore the previous day, (besides a small tear in the knee,) and jammed them on after pulling off her pyjamas. For a shirt, she wore a beige long sleeved shirt, and slipped on a tweed dark brown vest. She put on socks and her cherry sneakers, and then grabbed a brush to brush down her straight, blonde hair. Then she took over the bathroom for teeth brushing and other morning things.

Monique was a bit slower in the morning. She put on a tight, daisy yellow tank top underneath a white blouse, leaving the top three buttons undone so the tank top could be seen. Below that was a daisy yellow and white pleated skirt, with a plaid pattern. She wore knee-high white socks, and a pair of white sneakers like her sister's. In fact, they were her sister's, but they wore each other's clothes without complaint often.

Monique pulled the curlers out of her hair, and let it fall to a bouncy, open curl. She put mascara on her eyelashes, and zipped light pink lipstick across her lips. Then she took the bathroom after Jocelyn, finishing her routine and reapplying lipstick.

"You look like a stick of butter," Jocelyn told her sister, running off into the kitchen and the safety of mom's presence before Monique could catch up.

"Don't run in the house," Mom scolded, putting two pieces of French toast in front of each girl, and cut up squares of it for Julie, who wasn't allowed a knife, and probably could not use it right if she was.

"I wasn't running," Monique lied. Jocelyn snickered.

"I'm not deaf, or blind," mom said, smiling a little, "I could see you and hear you, like a herd of elephants, you two!"

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Jocelyn asked, shock slithering over her face to hold back the smile she wanted to let go of. Mom just laughed.

"You're walking Julie to school today. It's just on the way to Will Rogers, so it won't be out of your way."

"You excited for school?" Jocelyn asked. Julie nodded, a big smile on her face. Her two front teeth were missing – she'd lost them last week, and had been very excited about the twenty five cents she had received from the tooth fairy. Julie was dressed much nicer than her elder sisters, because mom still dressed her. She had her hair in pigtails, and a pink beret atop her head. Her dress was straight, down to her knees, and had no sleeves, but buttons at the front to keep the straps on and over her shoulders. Underneath she wore a long black, full-body leotard, which gave her a top with long sleeves, and no need for socks. Her shoes were little pink Mary Janes, which were reserved for special occasions. Julie would not be wearing such nice clothes any other day, because they weren't meant to get dirty.

After breakfast, mom handed each girl a black messenger bag backpack, filled with all the school supplies they would need, and money for lunch; in Julie's case, a brown bag with a sandwich, a pear, and juice. "I'll see you after school," Mom said, standing in the doorway, watching her children go. The sky was grey and cloudy, and the wind was picking up. It wasn't very pretty for September, when the sun was usually still bearing down full force. "Have fun!"

"Yeah!" Monique yelled back.

"Bye mommy!" Julie yelled, turning around and waving. Mom smiled, waving back.

Will Rogers High School was bigger than either of them had imagined. Coming from a small England town, and from a high school with only two hundred students, this was a shock. Monique and Jocelyn put on faces full of confidence, but inside they were shaking. They were definitely going to get lost here.

Their first stop was the office, to get their timetables and lockers. They had come early, so Principal Greene pulled them aside to greet them. He briefed them on the rules and regulations and dress code of school, some of the teachers, and the kids they wanted to watch out for. "You can't miss them; greasy hair, dirty clothes, bad English. You want to stay away from those jokers. They're no good for you. East-siders," He told them. Jocelyn and Monique kept their mouths shut about being from the East Side – obviously it was something bad, and they did not want to tarnish their non-existent reputations, and have the principal hate them already.

It took them ten minutes to get away from Principal Greene, and another five to find their lockers, which were right beside each other – numbers one hundred twelve and one hundred thirteen, on the first floor. Their lockers were right by the main doors, so they would not be so hard to find next time.

They shoved all their books and things they would not need into their lockers, but kept out a pen, a pencil, a binder, and a notebook each. They had the same classes all throughout the year, which was fantastic for them. Now if they made fools of themselves, or could not make any friends, at least they were not alone.

More people were starting to pour into school now, and the bell was about to go. They had History first period, which was up on the second floor. Now that the hallways were becoming jam packed with girls with caked-on makeup and tiny skirts, boys in Madras jackets and pressed jeans, and a handful of other greasy or clean looking students, it was a lot harder to find out where they were going. Room seven hundred and six seemed miles away, and the clock was ticking ever closer to eight forty five, which is when the bell went for first class.

"God, this is going to take forever!" Monique complained. They were walking up the stairs behind a group of extremely slow boys in ugly-coloured sweaters.

"Oh for..." Jocelyn started, grabbing Monique's wrist, and pulling her along as she shoved through the group of boys. Caught by surprise, they moved right out of the way, but they did not do it quietly. They were upper class, and no upperclassmen got pushed around here.

"Hey, little girls," They called. Being fifteen hardly made them little, and it was not like they were exceptionally short – five foot five for the both of them made them a fairly average height – but they did not say anything about it. They just turned around, facing the boys at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah?" Jocelyn asked.

"Jocelyn, seriously," Monique muttered, "let's just go. I want to get to class and if we don't go now, we're going to end up late."

"Yes, better run off to class," One of them said in a high, false British accent, as if they were trying to make fun of the girls' voices. They both rolled their eyes, and walked off, quicker than before so they could get to class.

"Seriously, was that supposed to be insulting?" Jocelyn asked, opening the classroom door, and walking into a half empty room. The chalkboard behind the teacher's desk said "Mr. Farlane", and underneath that, it said, "sit wherever".

"It was more embarrassing to him, I think," Monique said with a little laugh, as the two girls took desks beside each other at the back of the room. People in the front rows were always asked the most questions and paid the most attention to, and the girls just wanted to float through these classes mostly invisible. Learn the lessons, do the homework, pass the class – nothing in between.

Soon the classroom was filled, and the teacher was up at the front of the room, getting his desk organized. Jocelyn was sitting against the wall, so the only person she was beside was Monique. Monique was sitting beside a tall, scrawny, slightly tanned boy with greasy hair. The two people sitting in front of Jocelyn and Monique had greasy hair, too; in fact, a lot of boys and girls in this class did. The boys and girls with nice hair and good shirts were mixed in, too, to their obvious distaste. The greasy kids had come in late, and had to take whichever seats were available. Monique and Jocelyn could see them getting jabbed and insulted whenever the teacher was not paying attention.

"You can definitely see the split in the social classes here," Monique muttered, and Jocelyn nodded.

"Silence please," The man at the front said, and everyone slowly stopped talking. Mr Farlane was a stooping, heavy old man, with a bald head and small, dark eyes. He had a beak-like nose, and very small hands and feet. He was quite the funny looking man. Mr Farlane held a red clipboard and a green pen in his hand. He surveyed the room quickly, before starting on roll call.

"Aldergrove, Cory!"

"Present," A boy in grey slacks replied. A few more names were called, and it turned out that the boy in front of Jocelyn was "Cade, Jonathan", and the boy in front of Monique was "Curtis, Ponyboy" (which Monique and Jocelyn looked at each other and smiled about, while most of the class openly snickered). Everyone looked when "Morland, Monique", and "Morland, Jocelyn" were answered in accented voices by girls no one had ever seen or heard of; and the boy beside Monique turned out to be "Shepard, Charles", to which all the greasy looking ones in the class laughed at. He grumbled angrily under his breath for a minute, and Monique caught nothing but the word "curly" come out of his mouth.

All their other classes went this way in the morning. After History, they had Algebra, then lunch, then English, Science, and Art. For lunch they went across the street to a corner store called John's Grocery and bought Cokes and a packaged tuna sandwich to share.

In their classes they got a few side glances, but no one talked to them, so they ended up friendless by the end of the day. They were headed back to their lockers after the final bell, arms full of pens and pencils, binders, notebooks, and Art textbooks. They were nearly there when someone came flying out of nowhere and knocked all their things to the floor.

"Holy Christ," Monique said angrily, bending down to pick up her books.

"Slow down," Jocelyn muttered, following suit. When they stood up, a boy about their height with reddish brown-coloured hair was standing in front of them.

"Sorry 'bout that," He apologized. He was a boy in their History class, it looked like. "I was tryin' to get out before my ride left, an' I guess I didn't see you two."

"Its fine," Jocelyn said, although Monique looked like she wanted to yell at him for a bit. He walked with them the little bit to their lockers, and waited until their things were put away, and their homework was in their bags, slung across their shoulders. Then he extended his hand.

"I'm Ponyboy Curtis," he introduced. This time the girls did not even smile about his name. It was only funny the first time. But was he serious?

"I'm Jocelyn Morland," Jocelyn said, shaking his hand.

"Monique," the other said, shaking his hand as well. "We've just moved here. Over on Willow street." The school was sitting right between the line of nice neighbourhoods and bad neighbourhoods, so kids of each side attended. And, they hated to assume, this boy looked like he lived on the bad side. Like them.

"Really?" Ponyboy asked, surprised. His grey-green eyes widened. "I live near there. You two look like Socy girls, I figured you'd be on the other side or somethin'."

"What does 'socy' mean?" Monique asked. Both she and Jocelyn cocked an eyebrow, and Ponyboy had to laugh a little. He'd met twins before, but never identical ones, and especially never ones who had synchronized movements.

"Socs – Socials – live on the West side of town. They're rich an' stuck-up, an' throw beer blasts for fun, an' jump us. We're Greasers, 'cause we wear 'lotta hair grease. Well, most of us, anyway. We're hoods, or JD's or whatever you wanna call us. Tuff. We're poor an' steal cars an'..."

"Oh," Monique said, cutting him off. They understood well enough now.

"So we don't look... greasy, then?" Jocelyn asked.

"Nope. Hey, I better get goin'. I don't wanna miss my ride. If you ever get bored, come around to my house, it's the blue one on the corner of Birch."

"Okay, bye Ponyboy," Monique said, a little rudely. Jocelyn smacked her on the arm with the back of her hand. "Ouch!"  
"We'll definitely stop by sometime," Jocelyn said sincerely. "It was good meeting you."

Ponyboy just smiled and waved, then walked away. Monique sighed. Jocelyn rolled her eyes, heading out of the school through the side doors closer to the direction of their house.

"You're such a dink," Jocelyn laughed. Monique stuck out her tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, I have been alerted to the fact that girls were not allowed to wear pants to school back then. I didn't know that. Forgive me. Thank you to the entire two people who actually reviewed -- whatcoloristhesky & debster35 -- and less thanks, but thanks anyway, to everyone who added me to their alerts! And I've been alerted as well that this story seemed a bit modern... oops. I'll be tryin' to fix that, I will.

* * *

_Why don't you get it together now?  
Failure's not flattering_

When they got home, all the lights were off and the front door was locked. "I thought mom said she'd be home when we got back," Monique said unhappily as the two trudged around the house to get in through the unlocked back door. Small raindrops fell on their heads and shoulders all the way around, until they pushed open the heavy, wooden door and got inside. It smelled damp in the kitchen, where the back door opened into, because the roof was leaking right onto the middle of the floor. A note on the table in mom's handwriting alerted the girls to where she had gone.

_I've taken Julie up shopping for food. We_  
_don't really have much. We should be back_  
_around three thirty, unless we stop for a treat_  
_for her at Dairy Queen. We'll bring you two back_  
_something as well if we do. Be good, and I hope_  
_your first day of school went well._  
_Love, mom_

"Fantastic," Monique said angrily.

"What's your problem?" Jocelyn asked, cocking an eyebrow. The girls dropped their backpacks on the floor. Monique did not answer. Instead, she stormed off to her bedroom to change from her damp blouse into a thin, white sweater that buttoned up at the front with big, white buttons. That was what happened when you did not button your jacket closed – your shirt got wet. Jocelyn just threw her coat on a kitchen chair, her shirt perfectly dry.

"Want to go over to Ponyboy's in a bit?" Jocelyn yelled down the hall. She dragged her backpack into the living room, and pulled out the little bit of homework she'd gotten from English and History. All the other teachers had just gone over the semester's curriculum, and the rules and expectations of the class. The homework they'd gotten would not take more than a half hour to complete.

"Not really," Monique said, joining Jocelyn in the living room with her backpack she'd detoured into the kitchen to grab. "He seems kind of weird."

"We barely talked to him!" Jocelyn exclaimed, laughing a little, scribbling quickly on a piece of paper. Her text book was open in front of her on the coffee table. Monique joined her on the couch, and just read off of Jocelyn's text book to do her homework, instead of pointlessly pulling out her own.

"I know we barely talked to him. Yet, he invited us over to his house. Now _that's_ weird."

"No it's not," Jocelyn said, rolling her eyes. "Obviously we all just hit it off. Nothing wrong with that. And he seemed like a nice guy!"

"So you go," Monique shot, slamming her binder shut. "I don't need to go everywhere you do!"

"Holy, what's gotten into you?" Jocelyn asked, concerned. Monique shrugged, and then slumped her shoulders.

"I miss dad, and moving back to here, where he is..."

"Dad is _dead_," Jocelyn injected firmly. Monique shook her head, and wiped her eyes.

"Don't you ever get tired of this charade?"

Jocelyn shook her head slowly. "You know I do. But we can't just drop it; you're best just to stop thinking of it. We'll do things to take our minds off it, like go to Ponyboy's."

Monique sighed, standing up. "I guess you're right. Let's go now, then."

Jocelyn dropped her binder on the couch beside her, and then headed into the kitchen to get her coat, while Monique went into their bedroom to get hers. Jocelyn flipped the note on the table over and scribbled where they were going on it. When Monique got back, they left out the back door again.

It was pouring rain now, and they thanked God that they didn't have far to go. There was only one blue house on Birch Street, odd enough, and although it was near the end, it was only a two minute walk at best. The wind was blowing against the girls, throwing cold rain right into their faces.

An old pickup was parked in the driveway of the Curtis home, and a few loud voices could be heard from inside.

"Sounds like a full house," Monique muttered, slowing down when they got to walking up the driveway. Jocelyn slowed down a bit too.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come now," She added. They walked a bit slower now, and were almost thinking of turning back until someone threw open the screen door. It was Ponyboy, and he was grinning.

"Gonna just stand out there to get soaked?" He asked. Jocelyn and Monique looked at each other, and then picked up the pace. No turning back now. That would just be embarrassing, and stupid, and childish.

"That was our plan," Monique said, not as cold towards the boy any more.

"Watch it – the steps are slipp'ry," Ponyboy warned. Monique walked up the four steps onto the porch slowly and carefully, not wanting to fall and make a fool of herself in front of Ponyboy; especially because she was sure the story would be told inside to all the boys laughing. Jocelyn could see cards going flying and a blonde boy getting tackled by a dark, curly-headed boy, and the ruckus inside just got louder. It was because she was paying attention to this, and not to the steps that she was climbing, that she lost her footing on the last step. Instead of landing her foot firmly on the porch, she hit on the edge; her foot flew down to the other step, her knee bashed on the wet wood, and she threw her arms out in front of her to catch her fall. A thick crack issued out from her left arm, but from the loud noises inside, and Ponyboy and Monique laughing, only Jocelyn could hear it. Hear it, and feel it; it felt like someone had pushed a white-hot poker against her lower arm. The pain shot up like electricity, and she gritted her teeth. Blood was mixing with the rainwater on her jacket sleeve, and the puddle below her slack arm was turning pink. She pushed over with her good arm, sitting on her butt on the last step, not picking up her arm, only turning it around. Her hand was flat on the wood, and tears were now dripping down her face. Monique and Ponyboy stopped laughing. Monique stood confused – Jocelyn was the tough one, was she crying over falling down? -- but Pony crouched down beside her.

"Jocelyn? Are you okay?" He asked, concern lacing his words. She shook her head, pulling in a shaky breath.

"I think it's broken," She told him.

"You didn't fall that hard..." He trailed off. Jocelyn shook her head again.

"I could hear it."

Ponyboy stood up, and took two long steps to the door. He opened the screen, and hollered inside. "Darry! Darry!"

"Don't yell, Pony," A tall, muscular man said, coming to the screen door, just pulling on his sneakers. He had chestnut hair and shallow, green-blue eyes. "What do you need?"

"I think my friend broke her arm," Ponyboy said, surprisingly calm. Monique was still standing still with her eyes wide. It was an overreaction, sure, but when she had broken her arm, she had only been four, and it hurt a lot more when you were four.

Darry – who was very tall – came out onto the porch, and squatted down on Jocelyn's left side. He could easily tell this was the possibly broken one, since it was the one she was holding as still as possible.

"You're gonna need to take off the coat," Darry told her, "So I can see what's up."

Jocelyn slowly, with trembling fingers, shrugged out of the right side of the coat. She let it slowly, painfully drop down from her left arm, with clenched teeth and more tears. She refused to pick her arm up to get the coat off her hand, although it was not necessary. Darry, and everyone else on the porch, could see what happened. A bone in Jocelyn's lower arm was jaggedly shoved out of her arm, and blood was trickling its way down.

"It's broken," Darry said, getting up, and grabbing Jocelyn's good arm. He slowly helped her up, and told her to hold her arm bent up, so it would hurt less and be more stable while they moved. He led her, limping slightly from the hit to her knee, to his beat up Chevy. There were only three seats in the truck, counting the driver's seat, so Ponyboy and Monique were not able to go with Darry.

"Get Two-Bit to get his car and give you two a ride," Darry yelled back, helping Jocelyn into the truck.

"But Darry..." Ponyboy started.

"I said, get Two-Bit to give you a ride!" He barked, getting into the truck himself, and firing it up. He always kept the keys in his pocket, so he'd never lose them, and so none of the boys could take his truck without asking.

Ponyboy nodded, and grabbed Monique by the wrist. He led her inside as the truck zoomed off towards the Tulsa General Hospital. Inside, the blonde boy and the dark haired boy were laughing in the kitchen, at God knows what, and a boy with long, rusty sideburns was sitting on the couch, staring at the television, where the news was on. He did not seem to really be paying attention to it, though.

"Two-Bit," Ponyboy said, and the guy looked at them. "We need a ride to the hospital."

"Why?" Two-Bit asked. Monique thought that was a mighty strange name, and must be a nickname, although 'Ponyboy' was not exactly on the list of normal names, and it was his real one.

"We'll tell ya later. Just get your car an' take us."

"Fine, kid," Two-Bit said, getting up off the couch. "Follow me, then." He bowed, pointing to the door with his entire arm. Monique would have giggled, but she was not really in the mood.

"Where ya goin'?" The blonde boy asked, coming out of the kitchen, with the other following. Monique noticed that they all had pretty greasy hair.

"Hospital," Ponyboy said, following Two-Bit out the door. "Tell ya later!" He added, before anyone could ask why again.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! to all my reviewers. Not many of you, but boy howdy, do I appreciate it :D haha. This chapter is jumpy -- could you tell? Yeah. I don't like it. There's a bit at the end when the twins are leaving the Curtis house, when they're saying why they had to... it makes no sense to me at all, but I wrote this chapter like, in September, therefore I don't remember what I meant, therefore I can't fix it.

* * *

_I believe your parents did_  
_the best job they knew how to do_

Jess Morland was coming home later and later each night. Her clothes got more wrinkled and messy, and her hair was never in the pretty updo it was when she went out. It had been one week since she had gone to the hospital to pick up her daughters, and even then she had been later than a mother should have been. Julie was at the baby sitter's that night, but now it was up to Jocelyn and Monique to stay home in the evenings to watch their little sister.

She was beginning to feel sick in the mornings as well, though she could not figure out why. Probably a stomach bug, since she had not been feeling well for a while now. Not since the night after they moved there, and she had had a taste of the local pub. There she had met a handsome man, Jack Randle, who had been able to show her quite the good time. Jess was usually not one to be sleeping with strange men, especially not ones she had just met, and in a bar none the less, but there was something she found irresistible about Jack. Perhaps it was the way he could take control, or his confidence, or maybe his calm nature. Or she could stop beating around the bush; it had been nearly five years since Jess had had any kind of sexual relationship, and this fling with Jack – no emotion, no attachment, no relationship, just sexual gratification – was exactly what she needed. And no one else needed to know about it.

"I'm going out again tonight," Jess told her daughters. They had just come in the door from school, Julie in the middle holding a hand from each of them. There was an after school daycare in the kindergarten Julie went to, so she was able to stay there from noon until three, when the girls got off school and were able to pick her up and bring her home. Now that Jess worked from seven in the morning to two-thirty in the afternoon at a local diner in the middle, nicer area of town, she could not pick up her daughter anymore.

"No surprise," Monique muttered, dropping a heavy backpack and a coat on the ground. (Only a few days ago the twins had exchanged messenger bags for real backpacks.) Jocelyn mirrored the action, then grabbed Julie's messenger backpack off her shoulder and dropped it, so the little girl could take off her coat. She had mastered the zipper, and was quite proud of herself – it was something she had been struggling with for ages.

The twins did not start on their homework right away, for it was Friday and they had all weekend to do it. What they really wanted to do, after changing their clothes (it had been picture day, and they were very nicely dressed up) and having a snack, was go over to the Curtis place. After Darry, whose real name was Darrel, had taken Jocelyn to the hospital, the girls had gotten a lot closer to the whole lot of them. Darrel was twenty, and Ponyboy was fourteen, and in between them was Sodapop. He was almost seventeen, with a Roman God face, and shining blonde hair. It was a darker shade of blonde from the coming winter's sun, since it was already nearly mid September, but he assured them it was much blonder in the summer. He was a middle height, between Darry being huge and Ponyboy being kind of small, and probably the cutest of them all. His brown eyes were deep.

Sodapop was a high school dropout (which Ponyboy seemed less than happy about), and he worked at a DX gasoline station with his best friend Steve. Sodapop worked full time, but Steve only worked part time, since he was still in eleventh grade. Steve Randle was about as tall as Sodapop, and seventeen, with black hair he kept combing in small, flat curls on his greased head. He was attractive in his own way, but his eyes were shallow, and he did not have as nice of an attitude as his best friend. It made Jocelyn and Monique wonder how they could be best friends at all.

Two-Bit Mathews was the boy with rusty sideburns. The twins were not sure if that was a nickname or not, but they were sure that he was the biggest joker they had ever met. Everything he said was either a joke, a crack at someone, or something completely serious or not funny at all that he burst out laughing at afterwards. He was a bit on the shorter side. Two-Bit was eighteen and a half and still in tenth grade, which he found hilarious as well.

They only met Dallas Winston once, because the day after he came around, he got hauled in for theft and fighting. He was the only boy who did not grease back his hair, and he was the same age as Steve. He had shallow ice blue eyes, and a tough as nails attitude. His mouth was dirty, and his thoughts were too, from what they heard of them. He seemed to want to take a go that anyone who rubbed him the wrong way, even his friends. The only one he would not go at was Johnny Cade.

Johnny was small, sixteen, and tanned, but there was a very visible scar running from his temple to his cheekbone. He seemed like everyone's little brother, even Pony's, who was younger than him and just about his best friend. Johnny was quiet and out of the way, and barely said a word to Jocelyn or Monique, although he still seemed included in all their conversations, and smiled or laughed a little at Two-Bit's jokes and stories (when they were actually funny).

"You need to babysit Julie again tonight," Jess added.

"Seriously?" Jocelyn groaned.

Monique rolled her eyes and lightly stomped her foot. "We have _plans_!"

"No arguing," Jess ordered, rushing off to answer the phone. She did not want to get into a fight with her daughters now, and the phone ringing had given her the perfect opportunity to get away. Monique and Jocelyn dropped down on the couch on either side of Julie, and stared emptily at the television, where bouncy little creatures were singing a very simple song. Julie was having a blast watching them. The volume was low, though, and the twins could eavesdrop on their mother in the kitchen.

"Hello? Yes, this is Jess... What? That's awful! Well I hope... Oh? I don't know if we can... Well can't she go somewhere else?... Already? Oh, well, I suppose I could... Yes, I can probably afford it... Thank you. Goodbye."

"Who was that?" Jocelyn asked loudly. Jess slipped on her coat and shoes, not even changing out of her pink and white uniform dress. "And where are you going?"

"It was Social Services," Jess said. The girls both cocked an eyebrow.

"Why would they be calling?"

"Aunt Jane and Uncle Ray aren't... aren't fit to have a child anymore..." Jess trailed off.

"So," Monique filled in, "they've sent Samantha all the way down here? That's seven hours away! Why didn't they just keep her with them? What about Robby? Is he coming, too?"

"Samantha is twelve, so they won't keep her if there's somewhere else for her to go, because no one is going to want to adopt her. Robby is only two, he's got a great chance of being picked up."

"Seriously?" Jocelyn asked, disbelief in her eyes. Jess did not reply this time. She just grabbed her car keys from the hook on the wall and slammed the door behind her.

*

Samantha Morland was a small girl, even for twelve. She was only about five feet, and looked attractively but unhealthily skinny. Her face was slightly tanned and very soft, with big, glassy green eyes, a pointed nose, and a rounded chin and cheeks. Her hair was long and brown and thick with loose curls that cascaded down to her waist, although it was usually pulled back into a ponytail, with only bangs let out across her forehead, falling just by her eyebrows. She looked like a try-hard, too, with makeup thick for such a young girl, a tight green sweater that did not come down to her bellybutton, and an acid green skirt about six inches above her knees, with black boots to her ankles. It took Jess about an hour to get home, because, on top of picking Samantha up and filling out the paper work, the young girl had to be enrolled in the local middle school; she was in sixth grade.

When Jess and Samantha got home, there was no sign of Jocelyn, Monique, or Julie. Not until Jess led Samantha into the kitchen to get her a drink, in which a note on the table proclaimed that they had taken Julie for a walk.

"We'll have to buy you a bed and some clothes tomorrow, plus a few school supplies," Jess told Samantha, who was sitting silently at the kitchen table. "I have some hand-me-downs from the girls, too, that you can have. I hope the couch will do for you tonight."

"Yes, thank you," Samantha said politely. It was the first time she had been polite to an adult in a while.

*

Jocelyn and Monique were sitting beside each other on the living room floor, watching Julie wander around and look carefully at everything, pretending to be a spy. It was a new game she had been playing often now, since her kindergarten class got some I Spy books. Sodapop and Two-Bit were having a good time getting questioned by Julie, too; one of them was the bad guy and the other was good, and Julie had to find out which, using what they told her and clues around the room (although there were none). Two-Bit and Soda were making it very easy for Julie, but either she could not figure it out, or she was just pretending not to for a while.

It was nice to actually be over at the Curtis'. Since Jocelyn broke her arm, which was now in a white plaster cast with felt scribbles all over it, they had not been back. They saw Ponyboy, Steve, and Two-Bit at school, and a few days ago Darry had come over to fix their roof, and even once they had gone to the DX to get Root Beers and see Soda. Monique and Soda were getting fairly flirty, although Monique denied it when Jocelyn brought it up.

Darrel was sitting in the armchair by a lamp, trying to read the paper. But, unlike Ponyboy (who was currently doing homework), Darry could not read with all the noise coming from Soda, Two-Bit, and Julie, or Jocelyn and Monique talking with Steve about part-time jobs (they were thinking about getting them, but wanted to know if they messed up homework time). He was mostly just staring at the newspaper, kind of like how Ponyboy was staring at his English homework, upset that he could not join in with the fun in the living room.

"What time is it?" Jocelyn asked, to no one specifically. Anyone who had a watch was welcome to answer, since the clock in the living room had stopped working a half hour ago.

"Uh, 'bout five thirty," Sodapop answered. Julie had tired from her game and was now sucking on her shirt collar, sitting on the floor in front of the girls.

"Oh Jesus, we've been gone for two hours!" Jocelyn yelled nervously. She shot right up, and Monique followed slowly. Julie just stared up at the, shocked at the sudden yelling and movement. "Mom's gonna have a fit!"  
"Why?" Monique asked. Jocelyn slapped herself lightly on the forehead.

"Because she's going out at six, remember?"

"Yeah, but Samantha's here..."

"So? It's mom we're talking about."

"Who's Samantha?" Ponyboy asked, coming in from the kitchen. He had finished all his homework now – Monique was a little jealous. She'd have to worry about it on Sunday, but he was already done.

"Our cousin," Monique said, less than happy. "She's come to live with us because her parents suck at being parents. She's twelve."

"Oh, well..." Jocelyn cut Ponyboy off.

"We've gotta go! Sorry, bye!" She took Julie's hand in hers, helped her up, then her, Julie, and Monique left as quick as they could.

True to thought, Jess was waiting, all dressed up, in the kitchen. She scowled when the girls got home.

"I've been waiting. We can't leave Samantha home alone if she's just gotten here, you know that, she's in a place she's never been before!"

Jocelyn and Monique looked over the babyslut sitting on a chair, and rolled their eyes. There probably was not anywhere she had not been. This was untrue, for Samantha had never drank, or smoked, or had sex or fallen into the wrong group, but the twins did not know that at all. In fact, the little girl was just confused and trying to fit in with what she had heard the girls on the East side looked like. She was going a right well job of it, too.

"Have fun, mom," Jocelyn said blandly, sitting Julie on a chair across the table from Samantha, and then helping her sister get out ingredients for vegetable soup. Jess smiled, and wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave, then headed out, her high heels loudly clacking on the steps outside.


End file.
